Getting You Back
by Binks105
Summary: After the Berlin Wall fell, and Prussia was returned to Germany, Italy went back to his own country to recuperate. After seven years, both Italy and Germany realize that their lives aren't quite complete without each other. T for now, Human names used.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there. This is my first story in ages... But, here we go. **

**According to my head, Italy was with Germany all the years that Prussia was on the other side of the wall, and Germany was an absolute mess. So... Italy almost went crazy because of it. (Maybe I'll write a story for that too one day.) **

**Summary: After the Berlin Wall fell, and Gilbert was returned to Germany, Italy went back to his own country to recuperate. After seven years, both Italy and Germany realize that their lives aren't quite complete without each other. Rating T for now (honhonhon~) and... yeah. It switches points a view of few times, so... yeah. **

**I'm not going to tell you at the beginning of the chapter's who's POV it's in because it's pretty obvious. Unless of course you guys complain about it. **

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**Preface**

The year was 1989, the wall had fallen and I regained my brother. After over 40 years I spoke my first full sentence, "Ich liebe dich." My brother was brought back to me, and I couldn't be happier, but along with the gain of my brother, I lost something in return. Finally knowing that I was alright to leave alone, and at the point of near insanity, he left me. I let him go with a smile, knowing it would be better for the both of us if we stayed away from each other. At least, that's what I believed then.

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**Chapter 1**

It was 1996 when I realized my mistake. Alone in my office, I had come across an old photograph. The edges of the paper were dog-eared, and the photograph was tinted sepia from years of being stuck in the bottom of a draw. In the center I stood, with Feliciano and Kiku by my sides. Kiku looked out of place, the way he stood too far away from us, and how his smile was too shy, he looked awkward next to me. It was as if he was accidental in the photo, but Feliciano and I, we looked perfect. My arm was around his shoulders, his wrapped around my waist in haste, as if it were a last minute idea. Our smiles were so genuine, unlike the one in my family photo that rested on the edge of my desk. Gilbert's smile was too forced, bothered by the presence of Roderich at his side. My smile was barely visible, and if you looked close enough, you could see bags of exhaustion underneath my eyes. But in this picture with Feliciano, I looked… happy.

Without thinking, I grabbed the photo frame of the family picture, gently taking out the back. The photo slid out smoothly, and I placed it in a draw with other loose papers. After replacing the frame with the older photo, I held it back to look at it, smiling softly. It just about fit the frame, with a space of the backboard showing through around the corners of the photo. After placing it back down on my desk, I was overcome with a sense of emptiness. Would this photo be the only way I could see Feliciano smile like that at me again?

I looked out my window, my hand resting against my chin, index finger idly brushing my upper lip. We had once been so close, and now… now we were barely friends. At meetings we would sit next to each other, but are talks were nothing more than that of countries. I tried to think back to the last time he had asked for a hug, or even reached out for my hand under the table. There was nothing besides before the war. It seemed as though he wanted me to make up all the years I had lost with my brother. But now that Gilbert was back, I missed the distractions I got from Feliciano, and I missed his presence in general.

As I leaned back in my chair, the sun was falling just below the tree-line. My thoughts were overtaken with memories of tender kisses, and soft hands in my own, when Roderich pushed open the door. My head snapped over, almost expecting to see the small frame of Feliciano, frowning in disappointment when met with the form of my brother.

"Dinner is ready." His flat voice stated, an attempt of a smile playing on his lips. Roderich had never quite gotten used to the idea of living in my house, he still got lost when taking midnight trips to the bathroom.

Sitting up and adjusting the work papers on my desk, I sighed, "I'll be in there soon..." When I looked back up, Gilbert had just entered the room, throwing his arm over Roderich, pulling him closer, a childlike grin on his face.

"I made the most amazing meal ever, West. Don't let this guy kid you." Gilbert's other hand pointed to Roderich, a loud cackle escaping through his mouth. I smiled softly, standing up. The picture caught my eye again, and I stared at it before remembering I wasn't alone. Coughing awkwardly, I stepped up to the two of my brothers, motioning for them to go ahead of me.

From where I stood behind them, I could see Gilbert shoving Roderich slightly; laughing and muttering words I didn't bother try and hear. The kitchen smelt delicious, a mix of wurst and a faint smell of cake. The table had already been set, most likely by Roderich. The way the plates were perfectly centered on the mats and the forks and knifes directly in the middle of the napkins, which were folded to perfection; it was obviously his doing.

Gilbert sat down quickly, grabbing his fork and serving himself, smacking his lips, staring down at the food. Surprisingly, he waited for Roderich and me to serve ourselves before he began to eat. The kitchen became silent, except for the sound of chewing. This is how it was every night. Dinners were eaten in silence, unless there was something interesting that had happened to any of our countries, which barely occurred. I could remember my dinners with Feliciano, though his voice was loud, it was still a voice. We would talk about everything, and even during the years of my absolute silence, he would still find a way to converse with me, asking questions that I could nod, or shake my head to. The silence around my brothers was almost deafening, and I knew for a fact it was neither of their faults, but my own.

I missed the smell of his cooking, the wurst that dangled on my fork was perfectly cooked, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't slightly burnt, with too many spices dancing on my tongue when I took a bite. It was plain and German, the way it should be cooked, but my tongue longed to taste the garlic that would rub onto it from the platter of pasta freshly cooked underneath it.

"Hey, West, what's the matter? Do you not like it, or something?" I was snapped out of my thought process by Gilbert's voice, not too far from my face. Shaking my head, I took a bite, swallowing before I answered.

"Its fine, I was just thinking."

"Just fine?" he asked, frowning slightly, "It's better than fine, right Roddy?" he stared at Roderich, patiently waiting for an answer. When he blushed, Gilbert just laughed, leaning back down in his chair, hungrily taking in his food.

Pushing my plate away I began to stand up, the eyes of both my brothers on me. I mumbled a thank you, stating that I was going to retire for the night. Upon reaching my room, my feet brought me straight to my bed.

I sat on the edge, looking out the window, watching the stars that were just starting to appear against the dark blue backdrop. They were scattered across the sky, and I was reminded of sitting on tomato boxes, watching Feliciano sleep softly in our tent, his upper half wrapped in my coat. Shaking my head of the memories, I fell back against the sheets, staring up at the ceiling until I finally fell asleep. That night I was plagued with dreams of Feliciano's soft hands running across my skin…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Turning toward the light, I groaned, eyes flickering open slowly. It was morning, and the heat of the Italian sun was so strong I could feel it against my cheeks through the closed window, and see it through the unopened blinds. Putting the covers back over my head, and nestling into the sheets I tried to fall asleep again.

Fratello's voice could be heard downstairs, probably on the phone. From my bed I could hear his feet shuffle against the carpet, when he wasn't yelling, that is. "Feli, get up!" he shouted from the base of the stairwell, "I made breakfast."

Pushing the blanket below my chin I was able to catch the smell of tomatoes as it slowly filled my room. I smiled, remembering the presence of Antonio the day before with a brimming basket of the freshly ripe fruit. Stretching silently, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, hopping down onto the floor.

My feet felt cold from the change in temperature, but my body was warm from the rays of heat that reached me from my window. As I walked forward, my foot caught onto something, causing me to trip and land against my bureau. I whimpered, turning around to see the cause of my fall. A shirt was half emerged from under my bed, my toes being caught in the sleeve, while the other half was hooked to the frame of my bed. I frowned, unhooking the shirt and bringing it closer to my face.

The shirt obviously wasn't mine. It was much too large, and appeared to have been hiding under my bed for years. From the hook there was now a tear in the fabric, right underneath the sleeve. Poking my fingers through the hole, I examined the damage. It could easily be sewed back together, since the rip was directly on the seam. As I stared at the shirt, I suddenly remembered where I had seen it before.

It was years ago, but I could still remember every moment of that night, and any other night as well. I ran up the stairs with him close behind me, both of us trying to hush each others laughter. When we reached the bedroom, he shut the door, smiling at me as I sat on the edge of the bed. He walked over to me slowly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips. His fingers brushed at the hem of my shirt, slowly pushing it up as he kissed down my jaw and along my neck. With anxious fingers I pulled up his shirt, where he threw it under my bed somewhere. Now I stood alone, holding that memory in my hands, in the form of an old ripped shirt.

"Feli! Come on!" Fratello yelled again, getting impatient.

"I'm coming…" I answered back, fingers glazing over the black fabric. I sighed sadly, putting the shirt down on my bed.

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When I reached downstairs, fratello was already sitting down, a plate in front of him, and half of the food already gone. He smiled sheepishly at me, motioning his head toward an empty chair and a full plate next to him. I sat down, lifting up my fork, staring down at the food. It looked delicious, but my sudden encounter with the shirt from the past made my appetite diminish.

Fratello stared at me from his seat, a small frown set on his face. "Are you going to eat it, or what?" he asked, eyes narrowing in my direction.

I bit my lip, looking down at the plate, "Could you leave it in the microwave for me? I'm not all that hungry right now…"

His face wasn't exactly happy, but he nodded, continuing to eat his food. "Then where are you going?" he questioned when I stood up.

I turned back to face him, sudden determination overcoming my features, "I need to make a phone call."

"Oh," he began, staring off into the space just beside my head, "Well, I'm leaving for Spain later today, to see Antonio…" An awkward blush dusted his cheeks, and I smiled, thinking about how happy Antonio would be to have fratello around.

I left the room, heading toward the phone that hung in the hallway. As I picked it up, I had a sudden panic attack. What if Ludwig changed his number? What if they moved? What if he hung up on me when I called?

Shaking my head free of all of my insecurities, I dialed the number. At of all the things Ludwig told me, his number was the only thing I never forgot. Maybe the main reason was because I was always dialing it, calling him for the simplest things.

"Hallo?" I was broken out of my thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice. It wasn't the voice I wanted to hear, but I was still so happy to hear it.

"Gilbert? Hi, it's me, Feliciano!" my voice was higher than normal, and I could hear an audible gasp of content from the other side of the line.

"Feliciano, mein Gott, it sure has been awhile! Where have you been, what's been going on?" he rushed, laughing happily.

I bit my lip, debating what to say. "Well, there hasn't been much going on over here since you came back." It hurt to think of that day. I was so happy for both of them, yet I remember how painful it was to smile. "Um… Is Ludwig there?" I asked timidly.

"West?" he stuttered for a moment, "I think he went outside to walk the dogs. Want me to have him call you?"

"No. I'll just call again. Thanks, Gilbert. It was nice talking to you, bye!" I sputtered out quickly, hanging up the phone with more force than necessary.

I leaned against the wall, unsure as to what I had just done. The fear overcame me that if Ludwig was told to call me back, he wouldn't. I sighed, shaking my head and walking away. Perhaps if I sewed the shirt, it would give me an excuse to go see him. I trudged up the stairs, taking the sewing kit along with me. Ludwig was going to get his shirt back better than before, and along with the shirt, he was going to get me, too.

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**AN: So, sorry for the shortness of this chapter, my mom is rushing me off the computer. Happy Valentine's Day, everybody! 3 I have my ice cream to keep my company at least. XD See ya~ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh guys... I'm really sorry. This is really short. I'm sorry. ;_; The next one will be at least 2,000 words, I swear. It better be. And thank you all for the wonderful reviews, they made me so happy. And all the adds and everything. Sorry again. **

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Chapter 3

The dogs walked calmly at my sides, occasionally sniffing at the grass along the sidewalk. The weather was warm, and the sun felt good against my back as the dogs pressed forward. Blackie held the lead, as he always did, and Berlitz zigzagged at his side, almost tangling their leashes together in a knot. As always, Aster was trailing behind, occasionally looking back at me with a smile in his eyes, waddling forward. He had lost some weight in the last few years, and looked healthy again, but he wasn't in as much shape as his brothers. When Feliciano was around, he would feed him scraps off the table with his delicate fingers, but once he left, Aster was put on a strict diet, with exercise, to keep him from getting fat and lazy, like he was prone to be with Feliciano…

I shook my head, looking beyond the dogs at the cobblestones in front of them. I had to stop thinking about him like this. Too many things had happened… too much had affected us for anything to every work the same again. In the back of my head, the illogical part of me lingered on the thought of walking straight to his house and telling him how I felt, and pulling him into my arms. I could just barely feel the softness of him, fitting perfectly in my arms. Then reason kicked in. I realized that that couldn't happen; that my own pride would get in the way of any feeling that overcame me. I was stuck in this middle ground forever.

My mind mulled over one instance and that one instance only. It was the only thing that kept me from accepting him with open arms when he helped me during the years my brother was gone. He had switched sides. Why would he do that? Inwardly, I scoffed. The real question would be why _wouldn't_ he do that? Blackie stopped at the lead, and I bumped into Aster bringing me back to Berlin. He had stopped in front of a park, the benches were spaced equally apart, and there was a winding path between. I stared at the benches, my hand loosening around the leashes. Feliciano's soft hand in mine, warm with sweat. His smile soft, gingerly caressing my palm with his thumb as he sheepishly stared up at me. That smile, I missed that smile so much.

The dogs shuffled, waiting for me to continue walking. I pulled them back, wanting to leave, want to turn around, wanting to run home, but I did it calmly. At first the dogs resisted, but eventually they complied. As they walked ahead of me, Aster looked back at me, almost like he knew what was going through my mind. I shook my head, steering us in the direction of home.

Having reached the house, I unhooked the dog's leashes, and allowed them to run inside. I took of my shoes, and walked inside, turning to stare back at the place mat. Shoes… I learned to take them off from Kiku, my old friend. Where could he be now? Had it really been so long since I've seen him?

Easing into the room, Gilbert called out, "West, you got a phone call today; you'll never guess who it was!" He slid over, slamming into me and laughing.

Grinning like a child, he spoke with a sing-song voice. "Feliciano called," he smirked widely, looking over at me, "Haven't heard from him in a while, huh?"

Advancing toward him, I glared harshly, "That's some kind of joke right? You're kidding me. That isn't funny."

Mumbling incoherently, he faltered back, shaking his head. "I'm serious!" he wailed, "Feliciano called, I told him you were walking the dogs! Don't kill the messenger!"

Even though I wanted to hit him, because not only would it make me feel better, it would be fun, I decided against it. What I needed was more like a cold shower. "I'm going to shower." I said blatantly, walking to the stairwell.

"W-what about Feliciano? Aren't you going to call him back?" He questioned, eying the back of my head.

From the top of the stairs, I yelled back a no, stepping into the bathroom. Why would he call now, all of a sudden? I rolled my eyes, thinking how he would describe such a thing like this as fate; right when I started to miss him, he would call. But I didn't miss him, I reminded myself. What I missed was… what did I miss?

The shower pressure was low, but it didn't matter. It was hot enough where I didn't care, as long as I could feel it. My mind ran too fast, and I couldn't comprehend half of the things it thought. He called me. That was the main thought, and I tried to push it back as much as I could.

When I went to bed that night, I heard the phone ring again. I pretended to be asleep, because I knew who it was. But, I couldn't sleep that night. Unlike the night before, instead of dreams of Feliciano, I was cursed with dreams of smoke and a horrid smell filling up my lungs.

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**A/N: Read the first letter of paragraphs 4-10. **


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